


YES MR BRITTAS

by DivineVarod



Category: Red Dwarf, The Brittas Empire
Genre: Angst, Closeted Character, Gay, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Rare Pairings, Realization, Sexual Repression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 12:36:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5291087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DivineVarod/pseuds/DivineVarod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gordon Brittas goes through a journey of self discovery after realising his feelings for Tim Whistler are not entirely platonic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	YES MR BRITTAS

Everything in Gordon Wellesley Brittas' life had always been strict and by the rules: his daily schedules, his staff regulations, his hopes, believes and whatever else there might be. He had build his life round these rules and regulations knowing that they would one day lead him to fulfilling The Dream.  
  
Brittas loved his rules, his knowledge from books and courses: it made sense and, despite what others, including his wife Helen might, say, it worked – at-least for him. It was easy, orderly and made sense. It had kept him reasonably contented throughout his life and it delivered the desired results: The leisure centre was an oiled machine running smoothly, the staff was happy and soon enough he'd see the results of his efforts: making the world better by uniting people through sports.  
This is what he wanted, this is what he lived by and nothing could break his resolve.  
  
Nothing!

So why was he here now sitting at his desk thinking about things that could not be further removed from his rules and the dream if he tried? Why was he thinking about things that made no sense at all? Why was he thinking about Timothy Whistler?  
  
The problem of living life by rules and regulations is that life sometimes likes to shatter them.  
  
It had all begun a few weeks into his reign as manager of Whitbury New Town Leisure Centre. He knew exactly when and was certain he would never forget that day, that moment. How could he when it kept replaying inside his mind as if on an endless loop?  
  
The staff locker room, both of them in tennis outfits.  
  
He had always noticed Tim, it was impossible not to: that pretty, almost angelic face … _almost_ as the eyes had simply too much twinkly naughtiness to be angelic – as had his lips.  
Yes, he'd always noticed Tim and for some reason focussed on him just a that bit more than on the other members of the team. Not noticeably more, well not then anyway.  
But that moment in the locker room had changed all that: first the sight of Tim, his perfectly sculpted body in these tight shorts. Then the feeling Tim was looking at him too. Then Tim squeezing past him to reach his locker. The feeling it awoke inside of him was unlike any he'd ever felt before. He kept wondering had Tim known how close he was? That he could feel his skin, his body heath? Had Tim Know that he was brushing his groin against his bottom. That he -Brittas could feel … that … that ... That it had stirred a feeling in his stomach he'd never felt before?  
  
To Brittas this was not possible: it wasn't in his rules, not in the rules he'd set himself to live by. The Gordon Brittas he knew did not get a warm sensation when a man brushed against him! He purposely ignored his brain when it tried to remind him of the many times in the past when he had done so before. In his eyes they were easy to brush aside now as it had not been as strong as this one - or so he claimed.

The more he tried to deny what happened to him in the locker room the more his body betrayed him. He was shocked when he realised how Tim simply entering his office could cause a flutter in his stomach. He growled inwardly when he caught himself noticing how strong Tim's legs were in those shorts and how good he looked when climbing a ladder. “These are not the sort of thoughts a married manager of a leisure centre is supposed to have!” he told himself time and time again. Not that it helped.  
This was the first time he realised that advise from books did not always work. Willpower, repression, cold showers, mantras, sheer determination, he'd tried it but it did not work. No willpower could stop Gordon Brittas from feeling what he did when he asked for a massage for Helen and Tim, thinking that it was for him, piped up with that flirty but innocent voice: “What sort of thing did you have in mind Mr Brittas?” It had derailed his thoughts for a few seconds too long. He wondered what he'd done if Linda had not just walked by.  
  
It was intolerable, it was wrong but he could not stop it. That arched eyebrow, that cheeky smile, those sarcastic almost flirty comebacks that often either took his breath away – unable to reprimand the insubordination - or made him unreasonably ratty towards Tim and single him out. Often blind to human subtleties even Brittas had noticed that Tim did not talk like this to everyone and he wondered if the other man had perhaps sensed his turmoil or if Tim might be …? He had asked Tim's pal Gavin to his office to question him under the guise of concern for Tim. He never understood why Gavin got so angry, it was a perfectly reasonable question. He had assured him that if Tim were … like that … he did not have a problem with it, but the customers might. Gavin had stormed out and now, weeks later he still did not know.  
  
He scoffed at the absurdity of it all. Even if he did get to know, what would it matter? It was not as if he'd leave Helen to pursue … to pursue what exactly? Things one simply did not do. He reminded himself. But things he'd thought about time and time again all the times he'd selected Tim to accompany him for tasks and secretly studied him for hours. He'd even delayed that trip with Helen simply for the chance of spending time in the boiler-room with Tim. He knew damn well how that new boiler worked, (being him he'd studied that manual a hundred of times, of course he had! What if they'd lost it and something happened? He had memorised it just in case,) but pretending not to gave him a chance to delay their stay and to glance more discreetly. Kneeling next to Tim, looking him into the eyes was another bewildering experience. If Gavin had not come in with that blasted magazine would something … could something? No, what was he thinking? How many times had he told the staff things like that were not allowed on the premises, especially between co-workers. And he was married, married!!  
  
Meanwhile, whether he kissed Tim or not ... -He was momentarily stunned at how easily this thought came to him, then continued his train of thought.- But yes; whether it happened or not, he had to do something as things were getting difficult. The feelings of frustration were making him irritable and sometimes his "forbidden thoughts" made him take his eyes of the ball. Also was it was all very impractical: he kept wasting his time making up excuses to see Tim and these excuses were beginning to run into the bizarre now.  
Indeed, the times he had asked Tim specifically to come to his office for talks, tests, training and whatever else he could think were beginning to get ridiculous. The worst thing was: people were beginning to notice it. Julie had asked him today why he didn't just give Tim his own desk, it would safe everybody time and effort. Did that mean she had noticed …? No, what could she notice? He had not done anything, not yet. All he did was look.  
  
The moment he thought it he felt disappointed with himself. He knew very well that looking was just as bad. All the books said so, he had said so himself during lectures: countless times. Looking means desiring. He was certain Helen had never so much as glanced at another man. Their marriage was perfect he had to stop … Stop what? Thinking? He'd tried that; his Mindfulness exercise turned into one of the most breath-taking visualisations he'd ever had. A visualisation of Tim …  
  
Maybe he should talk to someone. A counsellor? Most of them had barred him and he didn't feel safe with the other ones: they'd been far to chatty. Might spread gossip. He had to find another way.  
It would have been so easy had Tim taken up his offer of management training instead of Gavin. Oh yes, Gavin. He always felt slightly jealous of Gavin: being able to spend every day with Tim. He sometimes wondered if that was why he did not have as much patience with him as he usually had with people. Well, he comforted himself: at-least Gavin did not sleep with Tim, that was a relative comfort. Gavin was completely straight, had quite the reputation as a ladies man, actually.  
  
He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Imagining tutoring Tim put a smile on his face: hours of training, explaining, leaning over him to point at an important statistic. So perfect. He'd tell him all he knew, Tim would smile at him. Together for hours every day, alone in the centre. Their bond growing closer and closer through their shared love of the leisure industry. Tim would blossom underneath his tutor-age recognize his dream and would want to join him on his quest. They would sit close, together on his couch dreaming of that beautiful glorious future and then – in that moment of deep shared understanding Tim would wrap his arm around him their faces would come closer and they'd unite in … a kiss. He imagined their hands sliding lower and lower to touch … Just once … _Just once_! What was the worst that could happen?  
  
“A DISSASTER, MR BRITTAS!!!!” Colin barging in without knocking threw him out of his revery so abruptly Brittas almost fell of his chair. His shocked glare obviously made Colin realise he'd given him a fright. The deputy went back to the door to knock and then apologised long, profusely and annoyingly. Brittas immediately felt a headache coming on; this was really not the time for one of the worlds smelliest man to barge in and blither on about – what was he actually blithering about?  
“The choir is locked in the chamber and then the gas pipe burst ...” That was enough. Brittas uttered a “WHAT?” and ran out.  
  
Hours later: the paramedics had gone home, the room was sealed and the building was empty, safe for one or two staff still talking about todays events. A weary Brittas was about to head home when he overheard a conversation at the reception desk between Carol, Gavin and ... Tim.  
“It _is_ possible to discover your sexuality later in life, a lot of people repress or deny themselves!” Insisted Gavin.  
“The poor sods don't know what they're missing!!” Tim smiled at the other man.  
“I'm raising Ben and the twins to be completely open minded and true to …” Carol begun.  
  
Gordon Brittas suddenly realised he'd walked back to the desk and was listening in on the conversation. It was too late to turn away without making an excuse as he was far to close to the people talking. Actually: he did not want to turn back. He had to know: Why were they talking about this at all, and … could they help him answer one of the questions that had been burning in his mind since that day in the locker room? A question, he now realised, that had been in the back of his mind for decades.  
  
“Well ...” He suddenly heard someone say. It was only when he saw all three heads turn into his direction that he realised it was him who said it.  
“Mr Brittas ...” Carol smiled nervously. “How can I help you?”  
“Well ...” he repeated. “I could not help overhearing your conversation and I wondered.” Breathe, he had to remember to breathe. “It's about … a friend of mine ...” Did Tim just scoff there? Naah, he must be imagining it. “If a … straight … man dreams of and … imagines having fairly intimate relations with men or … a man, a … particular man at several moments throughout the day ... Dreams of it even. Do you think this man could be ...” Why would the words not come?  
“Bi?” offered Gavin.  
“Yes … or … or …” His throat closed up, he licked his dry lips.  
As an eyebrow shot up so did the lump in the throat of Mr Brittas.  
“Or gay …?” Tim smirked knowingly.  
“Erm … yes … Well …?”  
Another eyebrow wiggle, two naughty eyes staring into his and a smile that, for a few excruciating seconds made him certain he knew. Then from Tim's lips, in three words he had heard so often, came the answer he already knew:  
  
“Yes, Mr Brittas ...”


End file.
